Nyctophilia By Erin Hanyu Lynch

The air is fire behind
my ribs and I am about
to burst. What a spectacle
I would make, a red-and-gold
fire-wrought phoenix
spattered against ink-stain
sky. My pain is exquisite.

ii.

I peel awayat my chest. I wantto speak, but something intheir spider eyes bottlesme up. The air is fire behindmy ribs and I am aboutto burst.

iii.

I am a creature
born of darkness, mole
used only to earth. I am
not accustomed to blank
eyes and slack
jaw, to thin tendrils lining
rows and rows before me.

iv.

The air is sparks behindmy chest and I am aboutto burst. I wear a necklaceof string, of tooth, of shardsof bone. I wear a mouthgarbled full of charcoalkerosene. I wear my voice,blinding fireworks painting the sky.

Biography:

Erin Hanyu Lynch attends Hackley School in Tarrytown, NY. An alumna of Columbia University’s Advanced Workshop in Creative Writing, she has produced poetry that has appeared in their 2018 Summer Session I literary magazine, “Alphabet Soup.” She has also published three works of prose. When she isn’t writing or stressing about college applications, she can probably be found contemplating mortality with her three cats.